


Felix Natalis Die

by bri_notthecheese



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Fancy Dinners and Loud Bars, First Dates, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sam's emotionally constipated and Rafe's not subtle in his adoration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 20:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15299670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bri_notthecheese/pseuds/bri_notthecheese
Summary: Three months out of prison and living with Rafe, Sam wakes up and realizes its his birthday. Of course, Rafe would be remiss if he didn't take him out to celebrate.Is it a date? Hell if Sam knows.





	Felix Natalis Die

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MidnightandDiamonds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightandDiamonds/gifts).



> This work is dedicated to (and was written for) my absolute dear of a friend Phillippa!!! Her birthday is next week so ya'll should wish her a happy birthday!!! <3 
> 
> This is my first time writing Sam/Rafe (and writing Sam at all tbh), so I hope I do them justice. I'll always be itching to get Neil Druckmann alone and ask him what the hell exactly happened in those mysterious two years. Enjoy!

Forty-four.

Forty-four fucking years old.

Sam dragged a hand down his face, grumbling as he stared blankly at the ceiling. Damn. Exhaustion lingered in his limbs, reinforcing his thoughts of just staying in bed all day. He could take a day off of “work,” right? Allow himself to wallow that his first birthday out of prison will go by unnoticed. If that treasure hasn’t moved in hundreds of years, it sure as hell isn’t gonna move because he slept in. He turned away from the sun streaking through the window to glance at the clock. 7:03. Yeah, he was gonna sleep some more.

Even after sleeping on a hard wooden bench for years, Sam knew this bed was far better than most. He’d expect nothing less of Rafe. And this was only the guest room. Sam wondered how comfortable Rafe’s own bed must be if this was the quality given for people who weren’t here every night.

Not that that was the case for Sam.  No, this room had become his in the three months that he’d been here.

_Three months already, huh?_

Sam had mostly gotten over the shock of getting out of Panama. But after thirteen years, could you blame a guy for needing to be pinched every now and then? It was like a dream, something he could’ve cooked up in his cell, and he still had a hard time believing it. Nathan not being around was a downside, but Sam knew he’d remedy that eventually. Sounds like his little brother’s gotten quite the head start on him, but he and Rafe would make up for that.

Rafe. The guy had definitely changed in the time Sam was gone, and why wouldn’t he? He was no longer the inexperienced yet capable, bright-eyed guy that they— _he_ —had brought along on their hunt for Avery’s treasure. He was thrilled to discover Rafe was still searching for it after all this time, even if the knowledge that Nathan had given up left him sour. But Rafe had changed. Sam could see it behind his eyes. They were harder, colder. But life is hell, and you adapt or get swept away. Sam had certainly learned that lesson long before Panama.

The past few months with Rafe had been fun. After the first few weeks of adjusting, they had gotten into a routine of sorts—minus the days Rafe was away on business. Sam had been thoroughly impressed with what Rafe had been able to do alone, including learning Latin, though Sam found that he missed the attention he got when Rafe needed help with translations. Luckily, there were still plenty of things that Sam could teach him. History unrelated to Avery was still important in their research, and Sam knew plenty more.

But all that could wait. Sleep was calling to him. Sam grabbed one of the pillows spread around the large bed and promptly fell back asleep.

He woke a few hours later. Sam was confused. He didn’t _think_ Rafe had a business trip. Even if it was last minute, Rafe always let him know whenever he was going to be gone. Sam checked his phone—still a bit of a strange concept for him. Nothing.

But then why hadn’t he been woken up?

He crawled out of bed and made his way to the window, opening the curtains. The Manhattan cityscape never failed to amaze him. Hand it to Rafe to own a penthouse a few blocks from Central Park. Sam yawned again and headed down towards the kitchen.

He was surprised to find Rafe there, sipping coffee and reading something on his iPad.  Rafe looked up, eyes scanning him for a moment. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Sam replied, sleep still clouding his voice. “Is something going on today? It’s almost eleven.”

Rafe chuckled and looked at him in disbelief. “It’s your birthday, Samuel. Did you forget after all that time in jail?”

“No, I know it’s today, I—how do _you_ know it’s today?”

“You wrote it down when we were getting you new identification.”

“Oh.” Sam couldn’t help but feel touched that Rafe had remembered it from something so small. He wanted to thank him, but Sam hesitated. Things were never exactly awkward between them, but there was history there and neither of them seemed sure how to play it.

Sam knew Rafe had had a thing for him back when they were in prison, and Sam couldn’t say he hadn’t been interested. Nothing actually happened, but he doubted either of them forgot the unnecessary touches or conversations held in close proximity. Nathan had never noticed, but that was part of the thrill of the whole thing. At least for Sam. He knew Rafe would’ve preferred hunting for Avery’s treasure with Sam alone.

Kinda funny how it all worked out. Though with Nathan gone, Sam half-expected Rafe to make a move in the beginning. He had chided himself later for that. It’d been thirteen years. Sam hadn’t had a lover in that time, but of course Rafe would have. The world had thought him dead. It had moved on.

“I figured you wouldn’t mind the extra sleep. I’ve just been working on other work this morning. You can do whatever research you like this afternoon, but we’re going out later.”

Sam shook himself from his sulking. “Going out?”

“For you birthday. Samuel, are you still asleep?” Rafe titled his head slightly, a smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.

Sam scoffed, turning away from Rafe and grabbing a mug so he could pour himself some coffee. “Nah, just haven’t had a cigarette yet.”

“You need to stop putting that shit in your body.”

“Hasn’t killed me yet, right?” Sam shot a wink over at Rafe. “So where we going?”

“You wanna spoil it?”

“Well, pardon me,” Sam started dramatically. “I didn’t realize there was something to spoil. But, if you insist on keeping it secret, I can wait,” Sam said, knowing full well that Rafe understood his mocking was only in jest.

Sam heard a _hmph_ from Rafe before he turned back to his work. Sam sipped his coffee and opened the fridge to scan its contents.

Some good ole’ fashioned bacon and eggs would do just fine.

 

 

It was a relaxing afternoon. Sam went to the study where they kept their findings. He spent the day translating, mostly, with intermediate breaks to cross-reference passages on the computer. Rafe was in and out. Apparently, he had a lot of meetings today.

Come six o’clock, Sam’s stomach growled. He snacked a few hours ago and he wasn’t sure when they were leaving, so he got up to go grab something from the kitchen. He opened the door just as Rafe was walking in. To avoid a collision, both men instinctually grabbed each other; Sam’s hands flew to Rafe’s shoulders while Rafe’s went to Sam’s waist.

_Holy shit._ Sam knew it had been awhile—over a fucking decade actually, but he had forgotten how good it felt to have someone else’s hands touch his waist. Even if for a second. Touch starvation is a real bitch sometimes.

Sam let out an awkward laugh, removing his hands while Rafe looked up at him. “In a hurry, Samuel?”

“Oh, you know. Gettin’ more snacks.”

“I would suggest waiting,” Rafe stated, finally removing his hands. “Dinner reservations are at eight. I was coming to let you know so you can get ready.”

“Get ready? Rafe, where the hell are we going?”

“A place I think you’ll like. Like I said, it’s a surprise, though I doubt you’d know it anyway.” Rafe started to walk away.

“What are you doing? You barely told me anything.”

Rafe didn’t even bother turning around, already heading up the stairs. “I’m taking a shower. Get ready however you like. Dress in that suit you’ve got, it’s a nice place.”

And with that he was gone.

Sam didn’t think Rafe was very good at the whole ‘surprise’ thing. You at least had to let a guy know the basics of what was up so he doesn't end up looking like dumbass. He shrugged, figuring that he at least knew enough now. He quickly shut down the computer and shuffled the papers in what could be justified as a pile and then headed upstairs as well.

Sam could hear the water from Rafe’s shower going. He stopped his mind from continuing any line of thought beyond that simple observation. Or tried to, at least.

What? Rafe was an attractive guy. He couldn’t help it.

Sam decided a quick shower couldn’t hurt, though he noticed halfway through that he was taking extra care to actually scrub with the soap instead of letting the water do its magic. Maybe it was because of Rafe’s warning of it being a fancy place.Why were they going to a fancy place anyway? That seemed like something you only do when it’s a special occasion. Bigger than a birthday—even if it was his first one out of prison. But Rafe seemed to go to places like this a lot, so what did Sam know? Maybe a special occasion for rich people was the fact that they have money.

But if that was the case, was this the equivalent of Rafe taking him to a fast food restaurant? Was that rude? But Rafe could afford anything, so it can’t really be held to the same standard, right? Not that it even fucking mattered—Jesus, why was he even analyzing this? It wasn’t a fucking date.

Or…wait.

Sam didn’t know if Rafe even stepped into bars unless they were the expensive hotel kind, but they could have just gone to a place down the street to celebrate. Grab a burger and a beer and call it a night. Why the extravagance?

It was probably bullshit, but Sam grew nervous. He hadn’t been on a date in—God, sixteen years? Maybe longer? He ended it with that one chick a few years before they went after Avery, and he had had a few people warm his bed now and then, but nothing serious. Not enough to go on a date.

_Cool it_ , he told his reflection once he wiped away the steam. _Rafe would’ve said something. He’s a blunt kind of guy. It’s nothing. I’m sure it’s nothing._

 

 

The restaurant was certainly not _nothing_. He could smell the wealth walking in. Had he not been here with Rafe, he certainly would’ve pilfered a few things. Hell, he still might.

Maybe it was his imagination, but he could already feel the stares of the other patrons, and they were only in the front foyer. Damn. Could they smell his financial status on him? He certainly dressed the part, so it couldn’t be that. Sam knew he looked good in his black suit—maybe that’s why they were staring. After all, Rafe bought it for him. The guy had good taste. Expensive, but still good.

Rafe wore a sleek, black suit. The lapels were shiny, framing his white button-up and a black tie. Sam was generally a bow-tie kind of guy, but Rafe pulled his off well, and ties were useful for other things…

Sam shook himself, realizing he was staring. Despite the apparent wait, the moment Rafe gave his name, the two were ushered into the restaurant to their table in waiting. Unfortunately, Sam still felt the stares.

_Maybe they can tell the only reason I’m here is because I’m with Rafe._

“Something wrong, Samuel?”

Sam looked up from the menu to see Rafe’s stare pinned on him as well.  His gaze was amused—though maybe he was concerned, too? Sam had trouble reading Rafe sometimes. But he never hated when Rafe looked at him.

“No.” He tried to act nonchalant as he looked down at the menu. How stupid would it be to tell Rafe about this? He can handle a few glances.

“Are you sure?”

That caught him off guard. Sam glanced up again, making sure he heard correctly. “What?”

“I asked if you were sure you were all right.”

Rafe was sincere. Sam tried to ignore the tightness in his chest. He really did care…

…which made it harder to tell him what was wrong. After he went through the trouble to do this, it’d be a really dick move to tell Rafe he wanted to go. Sam didn’t know what his problem was. He should be fine with this shit. He could impeccably infiltrate any kind of fancy party and get out without anyone noticing. Maybe prison life had changed that, too.

“Nah, I’m good. Just don’t know what half of this says,” Sam shot him his best grin. Most people fell for that.

Rafe chuckled. “I can help with that. Most of it’s fancy bullshit anyway.”

Sam really did smile then. Rafe went over most of the items, skipping over things he claimed Sam would absolutely hate. The fact that he knew that much wasn’t lost on Sam. At one point, the waiter came over and Rafe quickly ushered him away again with a wine order. Sam still had no idea what he wanted but he was thankful the menu was so large. It gave Rafe more time to explain the names listed for things that could have easily been labeled as ‘lettuce’ or ‘onion.’

It was easier when the alcohol arrived. Sam had never been much of a wine drinker, but whatever Rafe chose wasn’t bad and it helped Sam focus on him instead of the fact that the surrounding guests were still very much staring.

Normally he’d like it. He liked people. He liked attention. He felt he should like this, but something about it set him on edge. Usually any negative judgment he got from a crowd was for being a dumbass. But this…this was just because he couldn’t pay for his food here with ease. Sam figured they needed to get the rods out of their asses.

Rafe was never like that. Nathan always assumed he was, but Sam knew he was wrong and that Rafe didn’t really give a shit about money. He just had it. He could be ignorant about it, and an asshole if he wanted, but it wasn’t like these people. Like Sam was dirty just because he wasn’t dripping in cash. He’d say fuck ‘em, but it was distracting. He wanted to pay attention to Rafe.

He settled on some meat dish. Rafe said it was a type of cut from a cow, but Sam had never heard of it. But eh, he liked steak and the other stuff it came with so he ordered it anyway.

But with no bread to munch on—seriously, who doesn’t leave bread on the table? —and despite Sam trying his best to only focus on Rafe, he still felt them. The two of them chatted for a bit, but after a few minutes, Rafe leaned in closer.

“You want to leave, don’t you?”

Sam’s eyebrows raised, unsure what to say. He tilted his head slightly so Rafe would know he heard.

“We can go. You could have just asked.”

“But we already ordered.”

Rafe waved his hand in dismissal. “They can box it up.”

“But the wine—”

“I can pay for it, Sam. It’s fine.” Rafe held up a hand in a placating gesture, leaving no room for argument.

Sam nodded. “Okay. Then let’s go. I don’t think your kind of people like me very much.”

Rafe laughed, before lowering his voice.  “They aren’t the friendliest crowd, no.”

Sam let out a small laugh in return. Rafe waved the waiter over and informed him of their plans, and within the next five minutes, they were heading out of the restaurant with delicious-smelling food in hand. Rafe’s driver picked them up—Sam wasn’t sure what the whole deal was with that. He knew Rafe could drive and did so, but he also had a driver when he didn’t feel like doing so himself. Sam had seen him around before so he must have another job with Rafe. Maybe one day he’d ask.

“So what do _you_ want to do?” Rafe fixed him with that look again. The one Sam had a hard time discerning. Annoyance was easy to spot on Rafe. This look was warmer, more amused. Sam spent years alongside people who always had an angle; he knew Rafe in the past, but did he know him well enough now to trust that he didn’t?

He shrugged. “I’ve never been opposed to good food and some drinks. Just maybe not in that atmosphere.”

Rafe pouted his lips as he thought for a moment. It was only a little distracting. “I know a club across town?”

Sam leaned forward, a smile teasing his lips. “Okay, but is it your kind of club, or my kind of club?”

Rafe mirrored his position. “And what is ‘your kind of club’, Samuel?”

“Eh, you know, like I said. Good food. Great booze. Loud music, lots of dancing, pretty people to look at…ya know, the good stuff.”

“I can find you all that, minus the food. Are you looking for a bar or a club? In New York, it makes a difference.”

“Well, we can eat on the way.”

The appalled look on Rafe’s face made Sam’s night. He laughed hard, poking Rafe in the side, which made his scowl deepen. God, that stupid frown bubbled up butterflies in his stomach. “Come on. You can’t tell me you’ve never eaten in a car before?”

“Actually I _can_ tell you that.”

“Perfect time to start.” Sam snapped open his food container. After placing Rafe’s container on his lap, a quick search of the bag found him utensils. “See? It’s like they knew we’d need them in here.”

“Those are a courtesy.” Rafe didn’t say any more, knowing whatever was said would fall on deaf ears. Before Sam could shove a forkful of food in his mouth, Rafe stuffed a napkin under his collar. “At least use a goddamn napkin. That’s a new suit.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Sam waved him off but left the napkin. He had a point.

The food was delicious. Rafe had instructed the driver on where to take them and then reluctantly dug into his order as well. Sam smiled, smug about his victory. Rafe noticed and rolled his eyes.

“Just don’t spill anything on the floor.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Another wink. Sam was not being very subtle. And he didn’t care.

 

 

There was a shit-ton of people in here.

“Glad we left our jackets,” Sam leaned into Rafe so he could hear him above the music.  “Kinda warm.”

Rafe nodded in agreement as he began rolling up his sleeves. He had already unbuttoned a few buttons on his shirt and Sam tried his best to avoid looking at his neck and collarbone. Rafe turned to say something and Sam made sure to focus on his eyes. “So where to?”

“In here?”

“Yeah. Where do you wanna go?”

“Let’s go bar first.”

Sam led the way over, excusing himself through the crowd. Fingers gripped the back of his un-tucked shirt and after half a glance backwards, he could see it was Rafe holding on so he wouldn’t lose him. Cute.

Sam signaled the bartender and ordered them shots before anything else. Rafe eyed the glasses with distaste as they were being poured.

“Never hand shots before?”

“Seriously? Of course I have. They’re disgusting.”

Sam laughed and wrapped an arm around Rafe’s shoulder. “But they do their job. C’mon, just the one? For me?”

“How could I say no?” Rafe deadpanned as he reached for his glass and Sam grabbed the other. They threw them back.

It was not ‘just the one’ shot. Or drink, either.

Later, both Sam and Rafe were out on the floor, bouncing to the music. Sam isn’t sure how much either of them ended up drinking, but he couldn’t give less of a shit. He was fucking _free._ Up until now, it hadn’t fully set in that he’d never be going back.  No more crap for food. No more wooden benches for a bed. No more wondering if he was gonna get stabbed outta nowhere. No more fear. _No more fucking fear._

What the fuck should he be afraid of now?

He sloppily reached over to grab Rafe by the shoulder. “Dance with me.”

Surprised, Rafe smiled and looked up at him through unfocused eyes. “How with this music?”

“I dunno, s’not a waltz.” Sam settled his arm around Rafe’s waist anyway and went to grab Rafe’s hand, but his coordination was a bit fucked at the moment. Rafe saw what he was trying to do and grabbed Sam’s hand, squeezing it as he laughed.

“The hand’s at the end of the arm.” Rafe seemed less intoxicated than he was. That was probably a good thing. One of them needed to know how to get home. Still smiling, Rafe raised his other arm and threw it around Sam’s shoulders, his fingers tickling Sam’s neck. It was so gentle. Sam thought he might cry.

Completely off the beat of the music, Sam swayed them back and forth while bouncing, trying to dance. It was a lost cause.

Well, mostly. Sam was still having fun, and Rafe was smiling. That was what was important. Sam was hyper-aware of the spot where Rafe’s fingers softly massaged the back of his neck, his other hand in his. Rafe’s waist was firm and warm. Sam pulled him in closer.

Okay. Maybe not a lost cause after all.

Rafe moved his fingers from Sam’s neck to press on his shoulder, stilling him. He kept their momentum going from side to side. “The bouncing’s gotta stop.”

“Fine by me,” Sam agreed, pulling Rafe even closer. Thank _God_ Rafe put his fingers back behind his head. They swayed back and forth, completely oblivious to the EDM track playing.

Their bodies instinctually moved together and Rafe’s hand slid down to the top of his chest. Sam sucked in a breath as he felt Rafe rest his head against his shoulder. He tightened his grip further.

“You’re warm,” Rafe mumbled into his chest. Sam felt, more than heard, the words. “’m tired.”

“Ah, a sleepy drunk,” Sam teased. Rafe pinned a glare on him. “What? Am I wrong?”

Rafe mumbled something but nuzzled back into Sam, much closer to his neck. Sam ignored the thrill that shot through his body from Rafe’s breath on his skin. Sam held him, committing the feeling to memory. God, he really liked this guy.

Rafe relaxed again and Sam worried he’d fall asleep where he stood. Sam gently shook him. “Hey. Let’s head back. Do you wanna call your guy?”

The idea of home seemed to rouse Rafe. “Good idea.” He turned to head out, still holding Sam’s hand. Sam let him lead them through the crowd and out onto the sidewalk. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe he just really wanted the affection, but Sam was not letting go until Rafe did.

And he didn’t.

Rafe flipped out his phone and quickly called his driver. Sam wasn’t sure if it was because of the distraction of the call and Rafe’s instincts kicking in, or for some other reason, but while he talked, Rafe switched from simply holding Sam’s hand to interlocking their fingers.

Fuck. Were his hands too sweaty?

If they were, Rafe didn’t seem to notice.

“I told him to meet us a few blocks over. Walk with me.”

Rafe took off down the sidewalk and Sam was all too giddy to follow. Besides liking it for the obvious reasons, holding Rafe’s hand was also helping his stumbling. Somewhat. But the summer air was cool and the lights were bright, and Samuel Drake decided this was the best goddamn birthday he’d ever had.

They didn’t say much on their walk, but sometimes they were like that. Sam wasn’t sure if he could make a decent conversationalist right now anyway. So they walked, hand in hand, listening to the noisy sounds of the Big Apple. He got really lucky that Rafe found him. That he had been checking up on the prison, just in case…

“Thank you,” Sam said. “If not for you, then…yeah. Thanks. And thanks for all this.” He gestured around himself. Damn. He was bad at gratitude.

“It’s never a problem, Samuel.” Rafe was quiet when he said it.

Sam loved that he used his full name. It felt…special. No one else really called him that. Affection surged through him and he yanked Rafe closer, causing Rafe to bump into him and nearly sent them both sprawling on the sidewalk. Sam laughed and ushered a quick apology and caught Rafe laughing softly. The strong urge to kiss him washed over Sam. It didn’t sound like half a bad idea.

His luck would have it that the car pulled up right then.

He swore silently and climbed in as Rafe held the door open. He didn’t bother with the seatbelt, especially not after Rafe decided to sit right up against him. He leaned his head onto Sam’s shoulder and slinked his arm down to intertwine their fingers again. Realizing how relaxing it’d be, Sam leaned his head on top of Rafe’s and they dozed during the drive home.

They disentangled for the time it took to get out of the car and into the building’s elevator. As they rode it up, Sam found himself initiating their handhold this time. It felt _good._ The doors ‘dinged’ and Rafe pulled Sam along to the kitchen. He grabbed two glasses and filled them with water, handing one to Sam and telling him “drink.”

Sam obeyed and drank three more after that. Fuck, he was parched. _This is gonna hurt like a bitch in the morning_. He watched Rafe as he drank, the urge to taste him still burning low in his belly. Rafe seemed to want that too. He should make a move.

The two men took their glasses with them as they climbed the stairs, heading down the hallway before they split to their separate rooms. Christ, Sam felt like he was on his first fucking date again.

Sam’s door was first.

They paused outside and Sam decided to just go for it. He wrapped his unoccupied arm around Rafe’s waist and leaned in. Rafe leaned in as well, but at the last second he moved and placed his chin on Sam’s shoulder and brought his other arm around to hug Sam around the back.

_What the fuck?_

Rafe held them there a few seconds before releasing Sam and taking a few steps back. “Goodnight, Samuel.” And then he was gone.

Sam stood outside his door, still trying to figure out where he screwed up. What the fuck. He thought he was reading all the signals right. Shit, maybe jail messed up his game more than he thought. Fuck. Maybe Rafe won’t remember Sam’s lame attempt at kissing him in the morning. Maybe he didn’t even notice.

Sam knew he was lying to himself, but ignorance was fucking bliss right now. Goddammit. He entered his room and collapsed onto his bed the second the door was shut so he could wallow in his shattered pride. What was he thinking? Now Rafe is gonna think he’s this dumbass that mistakes charity for fucking romance. He wished he had another drink and allowed himself the self-pity of having to drink water instead.

He shucked his clothing and crawled under the covers. The one thing he could be grateful for was the fact that normally he’d probably be up all night thinking about this. At least with the alcohol in him, he was able to pass out almost immediately after his head hit the pillow.

 

 

Fuck today.

His head hurt. His throat hurt. His _heart_ hurt?

The thought of staying in bed was nice, but he needed a fuckin’ aspirin. He threw on some sweats and a T-shirt before heading out to face Rafe. If he was awake yet. Sam hadn’t checked the time.

Rafe was already there in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee. Sam tried to catch his eyes to gauge his reaction, and Rafe’s blatant avoidance answered that question. Great.

“Aspirin’s already on the counter,” Rafe said. He sounded…almost normal? Maybe they were ignoring it? That worked for him.

“Thanks.”

He popped two pills and chased it with some water. He needed food. He walked over to the fridge as he heard another set of feet plodding along the floor. Before Sam could see what was up, Rafe was turning him around and backing him into the wall next to the fridge.

Time froze. Sam knew what this could mean…but it couldn’t, right? Rafe’s hands on his shoulders, looking at him like _that_ …well, Sam wasn’t going to blame himself for leaning in again.

Rafe’s lips were suddenly on his, hands clutching the material of his T-shirt. A moment of shock coursed through Sam before complete euphoria replaced it. Rafe was kissing him and he was not about to let that opportunity go to waste.

He kissed back with equal enthusiasm. It had been too long since he’d kissed someone, but— _fuck_ —he couldn’t remember kissing ever feeling this good. Rafe’s hands pushed against his chest, subtly feeling the muscle underneath. Sam held back any sounds he’d be likely to make while he gripped Rafe’s hips, keeping him close.

It ended quicker than Sam would have liked.

Rafe pulled away first, slightly out of breath, but he was fucking _giggling._ It was cute and Sam couldn’t help but join him as they both processed this new milestone in their relationship. But something was still bothering Sam.

He tugged on Rafe’s hips, drawing the man’s attention. “Look, I’m all for morning make outs, but why the hell didn’t you let me kiss you last night?”

Rafe shrugged. “You were drunk. I didn’t want to assume.”

“How very gentlemen-ly.”

Rafe snorted. He studied Sam, smiling, as he no doubt was still absorbing everything that had happened. Softly, he placed his hand on Sam’s waist and moved him aside. “I’ll make us breakfast. No doubt your head is killing you.”

“Like two jackhammers going to war.”

Rafe jerked his head towards the table. “Sit down and drink some water.”

Sam nodded, but first, testing his newfound chances, he moved forward and pecked Rafe on the lips. Rafe leaned into the kiss and hummed his approval before Sam maneuvered to the kitchen table.

He had a good feeling about this thing. It’ll be great. Just him, Rafe, and the treasure.


End file.
